237-239

Chapter 237: Clearing the Path  

Terry Semel had been mulling it over for a while—he was ready to ditch Warner and jump to Yahoo!  

The holdup? Some terms still needed hammering out.  

He wouldn’t officially bounce until next spring, giving him about six months left.  

For now, Terry Semel was still Warner Bros.’ top dog. Professional pride meant he had to finish strong—protecting Warner’s interests while picking a solid successor.  

Two contenders were in the ring: Vice Chairman Barry Meyer and President Alan Horn.  

Alan Horn was the content guru. Over the past few years, he’d been the big shot running Warner Bros.’ movie production, with killer business chops.  

Barry Meyer, though, handled the admin side—expansion, channel-building, that sort of thing. Plus, he had a deeper Rolodex.  

Terry leaned toward handing the reins to Barry. Warner Bros. wasn’t just a movie mill—it had home entertainment, TV production, DC Comics, and a TV network. They needed someone well-rounded.  

And honestly? Terry and Barry were tighter.  

The catch: Barry had never run the movie-making side, Warner’s bread and butter.  

Then, a few days back, Barry met with Michael Ovitz and pitched a game-changer.  

Slate financing for films!  

If Ovitz’s talk panned out and they locked in a long-term deal, it’d solve Warner’s cash flow headaches big-time—giving their movie biz a rock-solid boost.  

Pull that off, and Barry Meyer would be the obvious next-in-line!  

Michael Eisner’s pitch to carve up Dunn Films? Tempting, sure. But slate financing was the real prize!  

Splitting Dunn Films might net them a few film rights, but for old-school giants like Warner, Fox, and Universal, creativity and IP were never the issue. Cash was what they craved!  

Only Disney—a lightweight in live-action—would drool over Dunn Films’ handful of titles.  

Terry hadn’t bitten on Eisner’s offer, but he wasn’t just stringing him along either. He’d pick whatever served Warner best. He called Barry in and cut to the chase. “How real is this thing?”  

Barry read the gravity on his face and knew what he meant. He thought it over. “At least 80%.”  

“Oh?” That high? Terry’s eyes lit up.  

Barry nodded, dropping a loaded hint. “Terry, we’ve got to look at Dunn as an equal—maybe even give him a little extra credit.”  

Terry’s gut stirred. He shot Barry a glance. “You’re saying… Michael Ovitz is just the frontman, and Dunn Walker’s the real brains?”  

“I’d bet on it!” Barry’s tone was dead serious. “This slate financing plan—it’s mind-blowing. It’s not Ovitz’s style at all. Only Dunn, with his Wall Street ties and investment savvy, could dream this up.”  

Terry mulled it over, then nodded. “If it works, Hollywood owes Dunn big-time. But Disney…”  

Barry waved it off. “Dunn saw Disney’s counterpunch coming—that’s why he rolled out slate financing!”  

“If that’s true, this kid’s playing chess while we’re still on checkers,” Terry said, sucking in a breath. “But we can’t just take their word for it. Ovitz is a negotiation shark—we’ve got to stay sharp. Maybe… hedge our bets.”  

Slate financing succeeding? Awesome—everyone wins. Even if some studios miss out on Ovitz’s deal, they’d see the upside and jump on the bandwagon.  

But if it’s all smoke and mirrors? They wouldn’t play nice.  

Disney was already the bad guy—they could swoop in, hammer Dunn Films with zero guilt, and split the spoils.  

Either way, the big players couldn’t lose.  

“Only one hitch: we’ve got to stall Disney!” Barry grinned, sly as an old fox. “Word is, Ovitz is in New York, and Dunn’s filming out east—close to NYC. If they’re serious about bringing slate financing to Hollywood, we’ve got to buy them time.”  

Terry jumped in. “Damn right. Not just stall Disney—we need to step in a bit, ease some pressure off Dunn Films. Compared to nibbling at Dunn Films’ scraps, slate financing could be Hollywood’s turning point!”  

Barry nodded. “Disney’s gonna pull every trick to rally everyone against Dunn Films right now. We’re solid, but some companies—backed by media giants—might be too shortsighted, chasing quick wins…”  

He didn’t name names, but Terry knew he meant Paramount under Viacom!  

Sure, Dunn Films and 20th Century Fox had beef in the past, but on a make-or-break moment like this, Fox was reliable.  

Rupert Murdoch, the Aussie mogul, was shifting News Corp.’s assets from overseas to the U.S.—a long-game masterplan.  

20th Century Fox caught that vibe too.  

Companies take after their leaders, after all.  

Viacom’s Sumner Redstone, though? Brutal and nearsighted—classic family biz flaw. Turning down Dunn Films’ kids’ channel pitch was a dead giveaway.  

Paramount, stuck under Viacom, lacked the vision and scope of a true Hollywood titan.  

When Viacom snagged Paramount, it was the top dog in town. A decade later? That shine was long gone.  

In another timeline, Paramount birthed slate financing, sure. But they tried to game it—smoothing out profits to screw over investors for petty gains.  

That nearly sparked a war between Wall Street and Hollywood. Zero foresight. After that, no serious investors touched Paramount’s slate deals, and their movie output—quality and quantity—tanked hard.  

Viacom scrambled, buying DreamWorks to prop up Paramount and regroup.  

Didn’t last. A few years in, Viacom clashed with DreamWorks’ shareholders over profits. DreamWorks bailed, cozying up to Disney instead.  

Viacom’s old-school playbook flopped again and again, shrinking a global media giant into a $10 billion shell. Laughable.  

Redstone’s buy-sell-split shuffle over the years pissed Terry off more than Eisner ever could. He said coldly, “No matter what, we’ve got to give Dunn two months! Nobody touches Dunn Films till then!”  

Barry felt the same. “Dunn Films lives and breathes movies. Girl, Interrupted just hit screens—it’s getting good buzz. Some critics are already calling it an Oscar contender for next year.”  

“Then let’s give him a boost!” Terry paused, a spark hitting him. “Wait—hasn’t Dunn been crowing about crushing Disney at the box office?”  

Barry chuckled. “Yeah, Dunn… he’s young. Can’t keep a lid on it.”  

“Keep a lid on it? If he stayed quiet any longer, Dunn Films would’ve been toast!” Terry smirked. “Let’s see how much noise he can make with an arthouse flick.” 

Chapter 238: The Direction Forward 

The Soul-Shifting Girl is a pure art film through and through. It’s nothing like A Beautiful Mind, which wears the skin of an art film but secretly panders to mainstream values with its feel-good healing vibe.  

This movie is steeped in a heavy, oppressive atmosphere and packed with deep meaning. Unless you’re a hardcore cinephile, it’s tough to muster the energy to sit through it. Even with the prestigious Palme d’Or under its belt, it struggles to grab widespread attention from movie fans.  

That’s why, back in May, the film had its global premiere at the Cannes Film Festival. But its official North American release was pushed to mid-August, and the worldwide rollout won’t happen until after September. The goal? To sidestep the sizzling summer box office, delay the release, and ride the awards season wave to lure in a niche crowd of film buffs.  

What nobody saw coming, though, was that this summer, Dunn’s name would be everywhere—shining brighter than the sun!  

The buzz—both positive and negative—catapulted Dunn into the ruler of the summer box office. Thanks to the unstoppable juggernaut that was Spider-Man, he’d practically built a personal brand. “If it’s from Dunn, it’s gotta be good!”  

Under this dazzling halo effect, even an art film like The Soul-Shifting Girl, where Dunn served as producer, managed to pull off a surprising box office win. Sure, it couldn’t go toe-to-toe with the biggest mainstream blockbusters, but against a swarm of random small-fry films, it crushed them all with ease.  

In its opening week, it raked in $15.8 million—good enough for second place, just behind New Line Cinema’s The Cell.  

Now, heading into its second week, three new contenders were hitting theaters: Universal’s Bring It On, Warner’s The Art of War, and Disney’s Coyote Ugly. All had some competitive juice.  

The box office fates of Bring It On and The Art of War didn’t matter much to Dunn. His eyes were locked on one film: Disney’s Coyote Ugly.  

This was a pivotal moment in the showdown between Dunn Films and Disney. With Dunn Films still the underdog, they had to seize every chance to boost morale, starting small and building up bit by bit until they could finally flip the table on Disney.  

The Soul-Shifting Girl was saddled with a tough mission: to dominate Coyote Ugly at the box office!  

Let’s be real—Coyote Ugly was a total flop. No question about it. Even though The Soul-Shifting Girl was an art film, under normal box office trends, beating it should’ve been a breeze.  

But Dunn’s biggest worry? What if Disney played dirty at this critical juncture?  

Disney’s films had been getting steamrolled by Dunn Films all summer long. Since June, they’d been living in Dunn’s shadow. Back then, it didn’t catch Michael Eisner’s attention—fair enough. But now? Eisner was in the game, personally squaring off against Dunn. And when Eisner moved, he didn’t mess around—his tactics were sharp and ruthless.  

What if Eisner pulled some strings and “bought” box office numbers through the theater chains?  

At this point, it was all about pride!  

Eisner had already gone so far as to issue a “ban” on Dunn Films—breaking industry norms. If he could do that, what’s to stop him from rigging ticket sales?  

Dunn decided to get Michael Ovitz’s take on it.  

Ovitz was in Manhattan, New York, at the time, wielding Dunn’s $100 million investment to negotiate with Merrill Lynch, trying to convince Wall Street capital to back a packaged investment project.  

When he heard Dunn’s concerns, Ovitz burst out laughing. “Dunn, this is Eisner we’re talking about—Disney’s big boss. You’re underestimating him a little too much!”  

Dunn raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “What’s underestimating got to do with it?”  

Ovitz explained, “Dunn, Eisner’s the chairman of Disney’s board, sure, but that doesn’t mean he is Disney. If his personal image starts dragging down Disney’s interests, the shareholders’ meeting will kick him out faster than you can blink.”  

Dunn’s eyes narrowed, his heart suddenly pounding.  

Ovitz continued slowly, “A while back, Tom Cruise ‘bought’ $5 million in ticket sales for Mission: Impossible 2. It blew up in his face—everyone found out, and he became a laughingstock. With that kind of precedent, Eisner’s not dumb enough to try the same stunt, no matter how desperate he gets. Don’t underestimate the media’s power!”  

“He dared to break industry rules with that ban on Dunn Films because he kept it low-key, dodging the press in a slick, ‘legal’ way. It’s like he’s doing something shady but leaving no evidence to pin on him. But if he actually bought ticket sales to crush a competitor? His reputation would be toast.”  

“Look at Tom Cruise—he’s a mess right now. The fallout from that ‘ticket-buying’ scandal has tainted the whole Mission: Impossible franchise. Sure, Mission: Impossible 2 was the second-biggest hit of the year behind Spider-Man, but if they want to reboot that series, they’ll be waiting at least five years!”  

Dunn wasn’t fully tuned into Ovitz’s spiel—his mind was racing from that earlier spark.  

Michael Eisner… yeah, he’s Disney’s chairman and CEO, no doubt. But behind him? There’s the Disney shareholders’ meeting!  

If Eisner’s image took a hit and dragged Disney down with it, his near-emperor-like grip on the company could be ripped away by the shareholders!  

Suddenly, a bold, thrilling idea popped into Dunn’s head—  

After Vivendi’s massive losses, Dunn would definitely make a move to acquire Universal Pictures. Money wasn’t the issue. With his fame and influence, he could easily secure funding from Wall Street to seal the deal. Heck, he might not even need to borrow a dime—his own cash could cover it.  

The real hurdle? Dunn Films didn’t have the clout to pull off an acquisition like Universal Pictures!  

Right now, Hollywood—and all of North America—could see it: the rivalry between Dunn Films and Disney was out in the open, heating up fast.  

If Dunn Films came out on top in this fight, and Dunn single-handedly took down Michael Eisner—forcing Disney’s shareholders to oust him—who’d dare question Dunn’s chops then?  

Even the DreamWorks trio couldn’t pull that off, but if Dunn did?  

Once Dunn Films toppled Disney, it’d be like a nuclear bomb going off in Hollywood, the shockwaves hitting every corner. When that happened, would Universal Pictures have any reason to turn down Dunn Films’ acquisition offer?  

Heck, Universal’s execs and shareholders would probably be begging Dunn to step in and save them from their mess!  

Dunn took a deep breath, his gaze steady and resolute.  

Before this, folks like Bill Mechanic and Wes Cotton had tossed around ideas to help Dunn Films boost its influence fast. But Dunn always felt those plans were too slow—and even if they worked, they wouldn’t guarantee the kind of recognition he needed from Hollywood’s inner circle.  

Going head-to-head with Disney, though? That was a different beast—a full-on test of strength!  

Michael Eisner had been a Hollywood titan for two decades, calling the shots and shaping the industry—a living legend.  

If Dunn could take him down in one fell swoop, he wouldn’t just be some hotshot director anymore—he’d be a bona fide heavyweight!  

Directors, actors—they’re all just pieces on Hollywood’s chessboard.  

But beating Michael Eisner? That’d be Dunn going from pawn to player!  

That’s what real power looked like!  

A bright light flared in Dunn’s mind—he could finally see the path ahead.  

…  

August 25, Friday—Disney’s crime comedy Coyote Ugly hit theaters, opening in 1,510 locations with a screen share of just 7%. That was weaker than its same-week rivals, Bring It On and The Art of War.  

You could tell the theater chains weren’t betting big on this 88-minute flick.  

On its opening day, Bring It On pulled in $60,000, and The Art of War cleared over $4 million. Coyote Ugly? A measly $1.03 million—lagging behind holdovers like Space Cowboys, The Cell, The King of Comedy, Scary Movie, The Soul-Shifting Girl, and The Perfect Storm. It landed at a pitiful ninth place on the daily chart.  

Just one day in, and this film—with a $35 million budget and $8 million in marketing—was already doomed to lose money!  

Seeing the numbers, Joe Roth, head of Disney’s production department, wiped the cold sweat off his brow and let out a relieved sigh.  

Good thing he hadn’t made any promises to Michael Eisner—he’d have been sunk otherwise.  

Still, it was weird. Did Dunn… did he really have some kind of magic touch?  

How could an art film like The Soul-Shifting Girl rake in decent box office cash?  

Three days later, the weekend totals came in.  

Universal’s new release Bring It On took the crown with $17.36 million, no surprise there.  

Warner’s The Art of War snagged second place with $10.4 million.  

Third? The Soul-Shifting Girl, pulling in $9.4 million. Add that to its $15.8 million opening week, and its North American total was already past $24 million.  

Hitting $50 million in North America suddenly didn’t seem so far-fetched.  

Meanwhile, Disney’s Coyote Ugly was a total sob story—its opening weekend scraped together just $4 million!  

After getting crushed all summer by Dunn Films’ hits like Gone in 60 Seconds, Scary Movie, and The Girls’ Club, Disney’s latest, Coyote Ugly, couldn’t escape the same fate.  

And it was worse this time. If those earlier films could at least say they got flattened by the commercial titan Spider-Man and save some face, Coyote Ugly getting outperformed by an art film was a straight-up slap in the face.  

Disney’s movies were looking downright pitiful—pathetic, miserable, and oh-so-sad! 

Chapter 239: Birds of a Feather  

At Logan International Airport in Boston, Dunn was already waiting at the pickup area, flanked by his bodyguards. He was there to meet his official girlfriend, Natalie Portman.  

They’d originally planned for Dunn to take some time this summer to travel with her, but one thing after another kept delaying it. With Harvard’s new semester fast approaching, Natalie had taken a trip to Israel with her mom to soak in the sights of her ancestral homeland.  

Natalie had been so understanding about everything, and Dunn couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.  

Before long, there she was—Natalie strolled out in a simple white shirt and jeans, her mom by her side, no assistant in sight. She didn’t carry herself like a celebrity at all. Sunglasses perched on her face, she looked a little worn out from the long international flight. When she spotted Dunn waiting in the distance, a flicker of joy crossed her face, though she quickly pouted her lips.  

Dunn flashed an awkward grin and hurried over, opening his arms to pull her into a hug. “Babe, I’ve missed you so much.”  

Natalie squirmed a bit in his embrace and huffed softly, “Weren’t you too busy filming to even think about me?”  

Dunn lowered his voice, “Movies are my career, but you’re my family.”  

Natalie pressed her lips together, trying not to smile as she shot him a sideways glance. “Smooth talker!”  

Her reaction made him chuckle, and he turned to her mom, Shelley Hershlag. “Shelley, I’ve booked a room for you already. You can head straight there to rest.”  

Shelley Hershlag worked for Dunn Pictures now, overseeing finances. She’d come to Boston partly to drop Natalie off for school and partly for business. After a one-day stop here, she’d head to New York to meet up with Michael Ovitz. Together, they’d represent Dunn Pictures in negotiations with Merrill Lynch Securities.  

According to Ovitz, their slate financing project had caught the eye of Merrill Lynch, one of the world’s biggest financial firms. With the dot-com bubble bursting, Wall Street was pulling out of tech stocks and hunting for fresh investment opportunities. When Ovitz pitched the movie slate idea on behalf of AG Agency and Dunn Pictures, Merrill’s top brass were all in.  

Why start with Merrill Lynch? For one, Dunn had ties with them—Scott Swift, the GM of Dunn Capital, and Blanca Reyes, his personal financial advisor, both came from Merrill. Plus, in Dunn’s past life, when Paramount pioneered slate financing, Merrill Bank had been the first to take the plunge.  

The slate financing plan was Dunn’s brainchild, fleshed out and expanded by Ovitz, who’d come up with three funding models:  

• Debt Priority Model 

• This chunk relied on loans from banks or lending institutions, which movie companies would repay first. It was the safest bet for investors, though the returns were modest—usually 5% to 9%.  

• Mezzanine Financing 

A mix of debt and equity, this meant lenders could convert their loans into shares if repayments lagged. It got paid back after priority debt, so the risk was higher, but the rewards were too—typically 10% to 15%.  

• Equity Financing 

Investors took shares based on their stake in the slate. Once all debts were cleared, they’d rake in profits tied to those shares. It was the riskiest option, but also the most lucrative—the real movie-investment payday. 

Merrill Bank, a global financial titan, wasn’t interested in basic lending. They wanted high-return investments. With Dunn himself putting $100 million into the newly formed Legendary Pictures, how risky could it really be?  

Back when Dunn invested in companies or scooped up Apple stock, Merrill’s analysts couldn’t figure him out. But movies? They trusted Dunn 100%. Ovitz said Merrill Securities and its banking arm were hooked on the slate project. If talks went smoothly, Legendary Pictures—the first-ever slate-financed film company—could be up and running in two or three weeks.  

For decades, Ovitz had played middleman between talent and studios. Now, a new kind of intermediary was emerging: Legendary Pictures, bridging Hollywood and Wall Street.  

Shelley Hershlag, once an agent, now Dunn Pictures’ finance chief, was the perfect rep for these talks. Her negotiation skills outshone Dunn’s by a mile.  

The trio strolled out of the airport terminal at a leisurely pace. Soon enough, a handful of excited young guys—mics and recorders in hand—came charging toward them like a pack of wild fans.  

Dunn glanced at Natalie and muttered with a wry smile, “These reporters are everywhere. How do they even find us?”  

Natalie rolled her eyes dramatically. “I did an interview in Israel and mentioned I’d be back in the U.S. today.”  

Dunn was momentarily speechless, exasperated.  

Natalie slipped her arm through his, putting on a sweet, lovey-dovey act, and flashed a bright smile at the paparazzi snapping pics from afar.  

Dunn smirked to himself. They say all women are natural actresses. And a pro like her? She’s acting 24/7.  

Five or six reporters rushed up, thrusting mics and recorders forward. “Director Walker, can we ask a few questions?”  

Dunn kept his tone cool. “Same old rules: no questions about my personal life.”  

The reporters knew the drill and jumped in. “Dunn, Girl, Interrupted is doing great at the box office lately. It doesn’t even feel like an indie film—more like a commercial blockbuster’s trajectory. What’s the secret?”  

Dunn grinned. “Simple: my girlfriend’s acting is just that good.”  

Natalie giggled beside him and waved a hand. “Don’t listen to him. The movie’s a team effort—everyone in the crew poured their heart into it. I’m just one part of that.”  

With her fresh, girl-next-door vibe, Natalie could’ve passed for any college student. The reporters warmed to her instantly. “Miss Portman, congrats! Your film totally crushed Coyote Ugly at the box office.”  

“Coyote Ugly? What’s that?” Natalie blinked, looking genuinely confused.  

One reporter fanned the flames. “It’s a Disney movie!”  

“An animated one?” Natalie asked innocently, tilting her head. “That’s a weird name. Not cute at all.”  

“No, no, Miss Portman, you’ve got it wrong! It’s not animated—it’s a live-action crime comedy.”  

“Oh? Live-action?” Natalie gasped, wide-eyed. “I thought Disney only did cartoons. They make real movies too?”  

The reporters exchanged glances, quietly floored. Is she for real? An actress who doesn’t know Disney makes live-action films? She’s gotta be playing us, right?  

Dunn stepped in with a laugh. “Here’s the thing: she’s still a student, you know? Most of her energy goes into school. She’s not super plugged into Hollywood stuff—sometimes she knows less than your average movie buff. She’s familiar with the big players like Warner, Universal, or Columbia, though.”  

The reporters’ pulses raced. What’s he getting at? Is he taking shots again?  

It sure sounded like a dig—implying Disney’s films didn’t stack up to the likes of Warner or Universal.  

But honestly, Dunn wasn’t wrong. This summer, Disney’s releases had been steamrolled by Dunn Pictures. Facts don’t lie.  

Noticing their odd looks, Dunn chuckled. “You guys mentioned Girl, Interrupted doing well, and yeah, I’ll take that. But compared to top-tier commercial films, it’s still not in the same league. Week one, it trailed New Line’s The Cell. This week, Universal and Warner dropped heavy hitters too. So, it’s not that our little indie’s some runaway success—it’s all about what you’re comparing it to.”  

“Dunn, are you saying Disney’s movies are so low-tier they don’t even deserve to be mentioned alongside yours?”  

The blatant provocation made the other reporters wince, expecting Dunn to storm off.  

But Dunn stayed calm, unfazed. “I wouldn’t put it like that. Disney’s animated stuff is solid. Live-action? Sorry, but having a big company name doesn’t guarantee great films.”  

“So, you’re saying Disney lacks the talent to pull it off?”  

“Exactly.”  

“What about Jerry Bruckheimer and Michael Bay? They’ve made some solid hits together lately.”  

Dunn smirked dismissively. “Michael Bay? The explosion guy? Way overrated. As for Bruckheimer… wait till next year when their Pearl Harbor drops. You’ll get what I mean. Birds of a feather, you know.”  

“Director! One last question!” A shifty-looking reporter darted forward as Dunn started to turn away. “Bruce Willis just got divorced a couple days ago. Rumor has it his ex-wife walked away with $190 million in the settlement. Thoughts?”  

Everyone knew Willis and Dunn were enemies.  

Dunn paused, then burst out laughing—loud and unrestrained—before letting out a cold huff. “Nothing to say. Birds of a feather.”  

The Dunn of today was a far cry from two or three years ago. Now, he had unshakable confidence.